And so it begins
by Kuri333
Summary: In less than two months the new valet had become somebody very important in the head housemaid's life.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** All characters and places belong to J. Fellowes.

* * *

He found the rhythmical sound of the train soothing. Since that time, when he had been forced to return to England because of his injured leg, the last part of his journey on a rickety train car full of wounded, Bates had realized that despite being utterly uncomfortable, the predictable movement and the sound accompanying it allowed him a semblance of tranquillity for the first time since leaving South Africa.

Now, as he contemplated the Yorkshire fields, he had to admit it had made some of his fears subdue. Not disappear entirely, that would be impossible, but he certainly felt a tad less unsure, a tad less inadequate than when the train had left London.

" _How has life treated you, Bates?" the Earl of Grantham had asked, with a smile that indicated life had treated_ him _well at any rate._

" _Very good, sir- m'lord," Bates hastened to answer. There was nothing else he could say, even though this was a lie._

 _Lord Grantham displayed a reminiscent smile. "Ah, the war." He had not missed Bates' addressing him as if they still were in the military. "How strange a time that was."_

" _Indeed, my Lord," Bates adjusted his weight on his good leg and moved his cane a fraction of an inch. He had bumped into Lord Grantham at the entrance of one of the fanciest clubs in London, and even though he had recognized him right away, he would have passed without saying a word other than excuses, if his former Colonel had not called his name. It was not that he did not want to greet a man with whom he had lived so much in the past. It was just that now, in the middle of a London street, he was not entirely sure if it was the place of an unemployed crippled to talk to an Earl. Now, after a couple of minutes of exchanging pleasantries, his leg was starting to protest and Bates was acutely aware of the doorman and the chauffeur giving them not very conceived glances._

 _It seemed as if Lord Grantham had noticed it too, for he shifted towards the carriage. "I must be off," he said to the air. Then his blue eyes pierced Bates'. "It was good to meet you, here of all places."_

" _It was a… happy coincidence, my Lord."_

" _It was…" There was something in his Lordship's mind, but Bates knew better than to ask. Finally he smiled and the veteran recognised the dismissal._

 _Touching the brim of his hat, he bowed a little. "Good bye, my Lord."_

" _Good bye, Bates."_

 _Without a second glance back, Bates continued his interrupted path, trying as hard as possible for his limp not to be noticeable. Was it pride or just self-pity, he could not say, but he was not particularly keen for his former partner in arms to see the full extent of the damage._

" _Bates," he turned around. Lord Grantham had swiftly walked the few steps that separated them._

" _My Lord?"_

" _You wouldn't want…" his lordship stopped, looking around. "No, of course you wouldn't. Silly of me to ask."_

" _My Lord?" Bates repeated._

 _Lord Grantham took a deep breath. "I am looking for a valet. The one I had recently left… and the footman that is helping me is not… adequate. I was wondering if you could possible consider the possibility of becoming one?"_

 _This was certainly unexpected. "You valet, my Lord?"_

" _I understand if you have a better job, and I know there are plenty of people who would not want to go back to service, once they managed to get a better position."_

" _That would not be me," Bates prompted, trying hard for his eagerness not to show. A valet? Never mind that, a working position? For Lord Grantham?_

 _It seemed it took a moment for the words to sink in._

" _So… you mean you'd consider it?"_

" _There is no need to consider it, my Lord. As it happens I am currently… searching for a better position." Better than having none, Bates thought grimly._

" _So this might come as a gift from the stars, then." Lord Grantham summarised._

A gift from the stars, indeed, Bates repeated the words in his head. Maybe.

And yet, what had touched him the most about the brief exchange had not been the possibility of starting a new life at last, not even the blind trust displayed by his lordship who had not even asked for references from his last occupations, for which Bates was both grateful and relieved. It had been something different and very silly. Lord Grantham seemed not to care at all about the fact that he was lame. Or maybe was it because he felt a little responsible for the wound. The fact remained that there had not been a single mention to the fact that Bates needed to use a cane or about his ability to manage the tasks that were expected of a valet.

Bates very much doubted the rest of the inhabitants of Downton Abbey would be as conveniently nonchalant.


	2. Chapter 2

Her mind had been so full with images of drowning bodies, of people dying in an almost frozen sea or inside the immense metal vessel, Anna had found herself shivering more than once while she and Gwen worked on tiding up the girls' dormitories. Now, however, additional news were directing her thoughts elsewhere. Listening to O'Brien talking about heirs and succession had made her realise the implications of the tragedy, besides the obvious, dreadful losses of Mr James and Mr Patrick.

She had to concentrate on the practical aspects, as the lady's maid seem to be doing, in order to stop her minds' eye to clearly see Mr Patrick's young face frozen, drifting away in a sea of-

"Hello."

It took her a moment to remember. Of course, the new valet was to start working today. And there was O'Brien, directing her sharp tongue not at Gwen any more, but at this stranger who, despite the calm façade, was bound to be anxious about his new work.

She hesitated a second, after Mr Bates introduced himself. It was plain that O'Brien would not even bother to shake his hand. Honestly, there was no need whatsoever to be this rude.

"I'm Anna, the head housemaid," she shifted the pillow and candelabrum she was carrying to free her right hand. His grasp was firm and brief, and his expression did not change. Acting almost as if she was Mrs Hughes herself, O'Brien indicated him to follow her. Trying to give this man a sign of encouragement, Anna smiled at him. His answer was more like a grimace.

A moment later she found herself surrounded by almost everybody. Why even the scullery maids were dawdling around, trying to get a glimpse of the new valet! It did not take a genius to guess why. A new addition to the staff was bound to provoke curiosity. One that seemed to be unable to walk without a cane was a completely different story.

Still, what was the matter with everybody? Even Mr Carson, usually so proper he seemed to be insensitive, had not been able to stop himself from staring at Mr Bates' leg and cane. And now the new valet had been forced to repeat, for what felt like the tenth time, that he can manage.

"Of course you do," Anna prompted. It was not only a matter of being polite. She could not stand why everybody felt entitled to be around, staring and voicing doubts aloud, and lest of all Thomas' expression that was on the verge of becoming a sneer.

This time Mr Bates did smile at her, quickly, before turning back to Carson, to be directed upstairs to his room.

Of course there were almost hundred steps separating the servant's hall and the attic, and she had to admit there were times, during specially hard days of work, when it was an ordeal to climb them all and carrying things along. And yet, why was everybody doubting this man? He must have known what he was signing for. If he said he could manage, the least he deserved was the opportunity to prove it.

And yet, O'Brien's words kept on sounding inside her head for the rest of the morning. "I can't see that lasting."

Of course she could not. Or she would not. It was no secret that Thomas had wanted to stay as Lord Grantham's valet, and it was not a secret either that he and the lady's maid were quite friendly. And yet... Anna wanted Mr Bates to prove them wrong. Not only because it was always a pleasure to see their smirks being swiped out of their faces – something that, if she was to be honest, did not happened frequently. No, there was something about Mr Bates that seemed to challenge his own limp. He was more than a cane and a crooked leg, or so Anna felt.

She did not have to wait much longer for a prove of that. During luncheon his Lordship came down. It was not the first time that he did so, but it was certainly the first time Anna had seen him doing that in order to greet a new member of the staff. They were usually summoned upstairs.

Furthermore, it was the first time Lord Grantham addressed a new valet as "my dear fellow".

His old comrade in arms.

Anna quickly realised where that limp must have came from. Of course there was more to Mr Bates than what met the eye.

"You never asked."

* * *

 **AN:** Thanks very much for reading, and special thanks to the wonderful reviewers!


	3. Chapter 3

Bates had to stifle an involuntary groan that escaped him the moment he let himself sit heavily on the bed. He even stood up again to open the door of his room and check that nobody had heard him. He had felt grateful when Thomas had showed him the room and he had noted there was only one bed made. Now, it felt like a blessing that he did not need to keep on hiding most of his limp, pretending he was in less pain or none at all.

He sat on his bed again, gingerly this time, and stretched his injured leg. It had been a long day indeed, as he had anticipated. From the early walk to the house after getting off the train, to Thomas showing him around and - he very much suspected - making every possible attempts to walk as fast as he could, to finally starting his functions as a valet and dressing Lord Grantham for dinner and undressing him afterwards, he felt like it had been a lifetime since he had entered the servants' quarters in the morning.

Slowly, Bates stood up again and began to change into his pajamas. He stopped only for a moment to check on his knee. It seemed to be a little swollen, but nothing out of the ordinary. As so many things in life, he would just have to get used to this new arrangement and to all those ninety seven stone steps that separated the kitchen, the rooms above and the attic. The alternative was something he would not even consider. Not now.

It was not only a matter of finally having found a paid position, despite of his limp. Working for Lord Grantham was a nice thing, too. Of course their roles had changed, and he had to remind himself to address him as my Lord, and not as Sir, as he had done during their time in South Africa. But other than that, and despite the distances that had to be kept, he felt at ease.

Lord Grantham had told him briefly about the deaths of his relatives, which was something he had already gathered from the gossip downstairs, and he could tell that there was not only sorrow, but worry as well. He had mentioned Thomas in passing how strange their jobs were, having so many treasures around that did not belong to them. Perhaps, the most valuable things a valet had to deal with were not objects, but secrets, moods and confidences.

With a new grunt, Bates reached into his small suitcase for a bottle of ointment. He doubted of his effectiveness, but he applied it on his knee nonetheless. The old habit seemed to ease a bit of his tiredness.

Would he be able to manage? He had said he could so many times during that day it felt like the words had lost all meaning. To that lady's maid, to the cook, to Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson, to Thomas and even to his Lordship. And he had tried his best to sound reassuring each and every time. It was all empty words, really. As empty as the assurance that housemaid, Anna, had made in the middle of what had felt like an attack from all fronts. He had appreciated the gesture then, but now, faced with the reality of his own throbbing pain, he was starting to doubt it all.

He had to manage. That was it. He had to prove Lord Grantham was right, and everybody else, wrong.

He had no other place to go if he could not make this work.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you very much for reading, and special thanks to the guest reviewers Guest, Eva and Isis the Dog. You're very generous!


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** All places, characters and part of the dialogues are property of J. Fellowes.

* * *

"Anna?"

She looked up from the elaborate bun she was finishing, to find Lady Mary's eyes piercing her from the mirror.

"M'lady?"

"How is the new valet settling in?"

Anna frowned a bit and pretended to be engrossed with a pin for a second. What a strange question for Lady Mary to ask; she had never before had dealings with their fathers' valets.

"Mr Bates? Very well, I'd say."

"Really?" Lady Mary's voice was loaded with incredulity. "Because Mama was saying she heard he had been causing troubles downstairs. With the rest of the servants."

"I've never seen any of that!" Now Anna had to fight indignation off her voice. "He's quiet and respectful, and I haven't even heard him complain to the others."

"He wouldn't, if he wanted to keep his job." Lady Edith prompted from a chair nearby. Trust her to say things like that.

"Perhaps… she misunderstood." Anna added tentatively.

"No, it was quite plain. O'Brien told her Bates can't do the job properly. Why was he taken on?"

"Oh." Of course O'Brien would say that! "He was Lord Grantham's batman, when he was fighting the Boers."

"I know that, but even so…"

"I think it's romantic." Lady Sybil said. Anna smiled at her, although it was not really helpful.

"I don't. How can a valet do his work if he's lame?"

"He's not very lame," Anna tried to smile, to take the seriousness off the conversations, but an involuntary sigh escaped her. "There." She said after finishing Lady Mary's hair. "Anything before I go down?"

"No, that's it. Thank you."*

Anna closed the door as quietly as she could and, making sure the corridors were deserted, she leant against the wall, Lady Mary's clothes clutched against her chest. Why, why did O'Brien had always the need to stir up trouble? She could see there was some loyalty of sorts between her and Thomas, even though for the life of her, she did not understand how or why. But even so, it did not entitle her to talk behind Mr Bates' back about things that were not even true to begin with!

Standing up straight, she sighed again and started walking towards the kitchen, her hands still trembling with boiled up indignation.

She suspected she had not made a very good argument with the girls that could possibly match whatever O'Brien had said to her Ladyship. Lady Mary at any rate seemed to have her mind settled and if she and Lady Grantham were agreeing on Mr Bates' uselessness, Anna could not see very good prospects for the new valet. But what could she possibly do?

She was about to open the door to the servants' stairs but somebody was faster.

"Allow me," Mr Bates was smiling lightly, carrying his own, albeit smaller, bound of clothes. He had hung his cane on his wrist in order to open the door for her.

"Thank you," Anna said, hoping that none of her previous thoughts could be read on her expression.

He smiled, closed the door behind them and, with a swift movement, got hold of his cane again. Mr Bates started climbing down the stairs and Anna followed him, realising she did have to slow down her pace for it to match his limp.

"Are you settling in all right, then?" Anna asked, and a second after, she could have hit herself hard with one of Mrs Patmore pots. Wasn't this a way of asking if he could do the job? He would surely think she doubted his abilities, just like everybody else.

If he did, it did not show. "It is a great house. I like it. And the job."

"I used to get the rooms confused when I first started." She said, hoping to steer his attention somewhere else. "I used to fall asleep reciting their names in their proper order at night, so I wouldn't make mistakes."

She heard Mr Bates chuckled softly in front of her, and she wished she could see his expression.

"When was that?"

"Oh, ages ago," she shrugged. "I've worked here my whole life."

"Surely not _ages_." He had reached the landing and was turning around to see her.

"It feels like ages… but I like my job. I do." She hastened to add.

Mr Bates smiled and turned around to keep on going down. Anna wished there was something else she could say, but she did not know exactly what or how. When they reached the bottom, he nodded at her and started walking towards the laundry.

"Mr Bates," she called him, not exactly sure of how to tell him what was on her mind, or even if she should.

"Yes, Anna?"

She looked around. Thomas was upstairs, helping with dinner. O'Brien was no-where to be seen. As a precaution, she stepped into the corridor and signed Mr Bates to follow her. He seemed curious.

"I… I wouldn't like you to think that I'm speaking out of place but…" she shifted the bundle of clothes from one arm to the other. "It's just that… you might want to be careful." The last words came so fast she doubted Mr Bates had properly heard them.

"Careful?" he repeated.

"Please, don't think I make a habit out of talking ill of other people. Because I don't."

"I would never think you would."

Anna nodded, half registering his words. "Of course. Well. It's only that Thomas wanted you job, and I think he was almost sure he had had it before you came. So… what I'm saying is that he's not going to have your best interests at heart. I very much doubt he will even try to be nice. And Miss O'Brien… they are quite chummy, and you've already seen how friendly she can be."

There, she had say it. And whether he'd believe her to be a gossipy maid or take her seriously, it seemed to be a risk worth taken.

"Why are you telling me this?" he squinted his eyes.

"What do you mean why?" Anna was genuinely surprised by the question. "You should be on your guard, shouldn't you? I'm just giving you some fair warning. Because I think they'll try to prove you can't do the job." _As a matter of fact I happen to know at least one of them is doing exactly that._

For a moment he did not say a thing and Anna found herself torn between self-consciousness and exasperation. Maybe she was a gossip, but he was certainly taking his time to grasp the concept.

"What if…" it seemed as if Mr Bates was struggling with something to say as well. Whatever it was, he never finished and suddenly he was smiling. Anna realised this was the same smile he had had some days ago, when Lord Grantham had come downstairs to greet him. A sort of half-grin that reached his eyes and made them sparkle. "Thank you," he finally said, "for telling me this."

She smiled back. "Not a problem."

"I'm very glad you did."

* * *

* Dialogues from S01 E01.

 **AN:** Thanks very very much for reading and reviewing!


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** All places, characters and some of the dialogues belong to J. Fellowes.

* * *

It had not been just his imagination. He had felt it from the beginning, from O'Brien's less than warm welcome, to the way Thomas had sneered once or twice while walking him through his duties on his very first day. Now Anna had confirmed they were far less than thrilled to have him around.

It was the last thing he needed, because it was hard enough to prove himself as it was, without having people saying he wasn't doing it right. His most recent dialogue with Lord Grantham had told him as much.

 _"Bates, we have to be sensible. I won't be doing you a favour in the long run if it's too much for you. No matter what we've been through, it's got to work."_

" _Of course it has,"* Bates had agreed. And afterwards even Lord Grantham had admitted that they had managed so far._

And truth to be told, after a fortnight, he could honestly say he could manage. He was now sure of it. Of course, the first days, when he had finally being able to rest after his duties, he had reached his room in pain, his knee swollen and his good leg throbbing. Now, however, he could honestly say he was just tired, just like anybody in his position would be.

He walked slowly, but he compensated by starting earlier. He rarely carried things with his two hands if he could avoid it, in order to have a solid support on his cane should he need one, but so far it had not been necessary. Of course, his Lordship had not yet travelled, so he had had no dealings with heavy luggage, and yet with uncharacteristic optimism, he was almost sure he would find a way to do that as well.

It wasn't right for him to get this far, only to be boycotted by an aspiring footman and a Lady's maid. And yet, much more unfair things had happened to him before. He should be used by now.

At the sound of his name, he looked up from the book he had been pretending to read since talking to Anna. Next to him, she was mending something; all around servants were getting ready to have dinner, as soon as the family would finish. Daisy had been talking about the Titanic again. The young girl was easily impressed and, truth to be told, Bates very much doubted she had much to think about being just a maid lighting fires and helping the cook.

"I expect you saw worse things in South Africa. Eh, Mr Bates?" Gwen had asked, busying over setting the table. Funny that she should say that, right after Lord Grantham had asked him about the army.

"Not worse, but pretty bad." It was strange to have everybody's attention, even O'Brien's, for something that was not his limp.

"Did you enjoy the war?" Daisy asked.

"I don't think anyone enjoys war, but there are some good memories, too." He said, trying to sound nonchalant. The memory of having a leg that worked properly, for starters.

"I'm sure there are," Anna prompted, and Bates felt a sudden irritation. She was pitying him, and after the conversation they had had, he was sure this was an attempt to put him in a good light. He could not say what was exactly wrong with that, but he was certain he did not want Anna Smith, or anybody for that matter, to pity him.

Distracted, he stood up to hand a tray for Gwen.

The sharp pain on his bad leg was too much, and with an involuntary gasp, he dropped the heavy tray and, had he not manage to hold onto the table in the last second, he would have followed the silverware.

Less than a moment later, Anna had jumped towards the mess.

"I'll do it," she muttered, quickly bending down to pick up forks and knives. Bates knee was throbbing so hard he could not even join her.

"Sorry."*

He did not know where to look or what to do exactly, now that he had indeed everybody's attention. He could even feel Anna's gaze and for a fraction of a second he dared looking back.

Hard as he tried, he did not see that pity he was sure he would find.

* * *

He felt as if he had been hiding. While upstairs dinner was going on, he had taken refuge in the boots' room. He did not needed to see O'Brien's sneer or hear any more remarks. If she wanted to see him humiliated, there was no need to give her more opportunities, and he could very well use the time to clean Lord Grantham's boots.

Time passed with him hardly noticing, until the noises from the kitchen and the servant's hall brought him back to the present. Dinner upstairs was probably over and they we getting ready for their own supper. Bates collected his things and exited the room, heading to the store room to leave the lot. It was a door he was still unfamiliar with, and his walking stick was making it difficult for him to open it.

"Let me."

He had not heard her come down the stairs. "There's no need," he said warily, although it was obvious he could use some help.

"Mr Bates," Anna said, her hand on her waist, looking slightly exasperated, "anyone can have their hands full."

Without waiting for his reply, she opened the door and held it for him. She was right, of course.

"Thank you," he said, smiling at her. His own efforts of looking competent were perhaps making it even more obvious when he was not.

She smiled and he noticed how her eyes sparked. "We'd better get moving, or they'll start without us."

He chuckled. "Just let them try."**

* * *

* Dialogues from S01 E01.

** This is a deleted scene that can be found on the Script Book. I'm sorry they didn't put it in!

 **AN:** Again, thank you very much for all your support!


	6. Chapter 6

She was dozing off. In front of her, the words on the page seemed to slowly balance, in rhythm with her breathing, lulling her into much needed sleep.

"Are you going to blow that candle out?" Gwen's drowsy voice almost made her jump.

"In a minute," she said, rubbing her eyes and catching the heavy tome from falling just in time.

Gwen grunted something unintelligible and a moment later Anna could hear her breathing deeply and steadily. A voice in her head, the reasonable one that always seemed to sound exactly like her mother's, was telling her that she should do the same. She had no idea what time it was, but she knew it was late, and there was never enough time to sleep.

Maybe she could finish the chapter.

With a sigh and a stubborn gesture she centered the book back on her knees and looked for the last paragraph she remembered. She had to go back a page, having to admit she had not retained any of it. Of course, she was tired, but it was not it but the fact that the book was not exactly entertaining.

 _She had had to clear it with Mrs Hughes first. There was an unspoken rule, all maids had to ask the housekeeper whenever they wanted to do something they had not ever done before. For better or worse._

 _And now she stood in the middle of a library that had never seemed so big. She knew it by heart, she opened the curtains and tidied it every morning, and gave it a proper going over every two weeks, and yet it had never looked so foreboding as now that she was standing in front of Lord Grantham._

" _What do you need, Anna?" He said, and she could tell he was making an effort to look at her over a letter on his desk that was probably much more interesting that whatever a maid had to say._

" _I am very sorry to bother you, my Lord, but I was wondering if I could… borrow a book. From your library."_

 _Lord Grantham rose his eyebrows. Whatever he had imagined this was about, it had certainly been far from borrowing books._

" _Why would- I'm sorry, never you mind. Of course you can."_

" _Thank you, my Lord," she almost sighed in relief. She could tell she was blushing furiously._

" _Not a problem. I would ask you to write down in the register which book are you taking. It's something I ask everybody to do."_

" _Certainly, my Lord." She gave a tiny bow and turned around to go._

" _Anna," she heard Lord Grantham call, and she looked back at him. "Just out of curiosity… what sort of book are you looking for?"_

 _And that was precisely the question she had wished he would not ask. "History, my Lord." She said, as matter-of-factly as possible._

" _History?" Now Lord Grantham's eyebrows were properly raised._

" _I… I didn't get much of an education," she voiced the explanation she had rehearsed just in case somebody would ask. "And I realise there is plenty I don't know. So I think I'd like to start there."_

" _Right you are, yes," he said looking thoughtfully around. "Would you need any help finding what you want?"_

 _This time Anna did smile, genuinely. She was touched by his interest. "I don't think so, my Lord. After having to clean this room many times, I daresay I know where every book is by heart."_

Now, after 159 pages, she strongly suspected she had not picked the right volume. Or maybe the right strategy.

There was no point on trying to tick herself any further into thinking she just wanted to expand her knowledge. Because she knew that was not the only reason. Not even the most important one.

She remembered growing up, listening to people in the village repeat the news read on the paper. "Boers" had been an ominous word, associated with danger the same way the monsters in the stories of her childhood had been. Now she wanted to know more. About what exactly had it been like to travel to South Africa, about who the Boers were and why had it been so important to fight them, about what could have happened to Mr Bates' leg, and of course, about what sort of bond could be formed between men in the military. Because the fact remained that another fortnight had passed and despite O'Brien's and Thomas' venomous attempts, Mr Bates was still there, working as His Lordship's valet.

Anna sighed loudly. She would finish the page, only that, and she would continue tomorrow.

"Fortunately the lack of initiative on the part of the Boers which has stood our friend so often came in to save us from disaster and humiliation. It is due to the brave unshaken face which the Guards presented to the enemy that our repulse did not deepen into something still more serious."*

With a sudden sigh she closed the volume and glared at the author's name. No, this was not going to be helpful at all. Conan Doyle's valiant attempts at describing each and every move of the war gave her nothing that could answer her questions, besides terrible, colourful images of destruction that were certainly going to haunt her dreams. It was worse now, that she could picture Mr Bates, and even Lord Grantham, wearing those old fashioned uniforms and navigating their way through the terrible conditions in South Africa. And yet, that was not exactly the knowledge she had wanted.

There was more to Mr Bates, all right, but no book would tell her exactly what.

Carefully leaving the book on the table next to her bed, she blew the candle and snuggled under her covers. At least, if the subject of the war was broached again in the servant's hall, she would not look like an utter ignoramus.

* * *

* Quote from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Great Boer War" (1900). Yes, I did my homework! Isn't it remarkable how the author of Sherlock Holmes had non-fictional books and one of them is actually the play-by-play account of that particular war? Now let's pretend Lord Grantham had that volume, shall we?

Thanks a lot, all of you, and special thanks to Isis the Dog for such generous, insightful reviews.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** All characters and places belong to J. Fellowes. I'm just playing with them, no profit is being made.

* * *

"I just remembered, Bates."

"My Lord?" Bates did not take his eyes off the tie he was knotting, making sure it would be perfectly centred.

"Well, as a matter of fact, something that Anna said reminded me of it." Now Bates did look at his Lordship curiously. How many chances were there for him to have contact with a housemaid? "I recall you liked to read."

"I do."

"I'd forget to tell you before. You can borrow books from the library downstairs if you wish to."

Bates smiled. He had eyed the collection, on his very few visits to the library, and he had been on the verge of actually asking Lord Grantham if he could make use of it. He had decided then to postpone it for some weeks, at least until he would be a little surer about his staying in the house.

Was Lord Grantham's offer a way of telling him it had been settled, then?

"Thank you very much, my Lord." And yet he failed to understand what had been Anna's part in the whole exchange.

"Not a problem."

Bates helped Lord Grantham with his jacket and brushed the shoulders carefully.

"Incidentally," his Lordship spoke again. "Would you mind asking Anna if she found what she was looking for?"

What a cryptic message. "Of course." He doubted for a fraction of a second if he should inquire about what exactly should she have found.

"She asked for my permission to borrow books some days ago, that's what reminded me." Lord Grantham added, almost as if he was answering his unspoken question. "Apparently she is interested in history, of all things!"

It was odd. And yet, Bates felt there was no need for Lord Grantham to sound so surprised.

That night, before Mr Carson rung the gong, Bates considered how to pass Lord Grantham's message to Anna and, if possible, find more about it. He felt intrigued, he had to admit it. He had never seen her read, but then, she was always so busy hurrying from one room to the other, or climbing upstairs to help the girls. Even during what was considered to be their free time like it was now; Anna was always mending something, or trying to take a stain out of a gown or a hat. Diligently, silently.

He would ask her, but not just because Lord Grantham had asked him to, but because now he was curious.

During their dinner, William was telling about something he had read on the paper and Thomas was sneering at it. Irritating as it was, Bates realised Anna did not seem to be paying attention, but rather looking at her own plate, thoughtful.

"I've got a message for you, Anna," he said softly, trying hard for his voice not to carry to the rest of the table. It had not escaped him that O'Brien was glancing at them and he most definitely did not want any information, private or not, to reach her ears.

She looked up, eyes wide open and a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"A message? What sort of message?"

"From his Lordship."

"Oh." Anna bit her lip and looked at her plate again, moving her food from one side to the other. "And what does his Lordship needs from me?"

"He wishes to know if you found what you were looking for in the library."

Was it his imagination or Anna's cheeks had turned pink? It was difficult to say in the dim light of the servants' hall.

"Did he?" It seemed as if she was trying to make up her mind about saying something else or not. "I did, thank you." Realising he had been staring, Bates directed his attention to his own plate.

He debated if he should ask any further, but somewhat he felt it would be intrusive. Why would somebody wanted to avoid this sort of topic, he had no idea, but he would respect that. He was starting to listen to the footmen's conversation again when Anna's voice seemed to physically pull him back.

"It felt a little strange to ask his Lordship about books. I usually read other things. I daresay he thought it was strange, too."

Bates smiled at her. "I think he did... but then again, I can't picture any of his daughters reading history. Maybe you doing so is just a new idea he has to get used to."

"Maybe," she said, her voice lighter now.

How strange it was to have an almost private conversation in the centre of a room full of people. Bates decided he rather liked it. "What would you usually read?"

"Poetry, whenever I get the time... which is not very often." Finally she smiled, and Bates realised he had been waiting for that very smile through all their exchange.

* * *

 **AN:** The first episode lasts about two months. I'm guessing there would have been several interactions between these two that lead to Anna being so sad he would go. Which is really what made me write this.

Thank you very much for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

With Lady Mary and Lady Edith away for dinner, Anna was climbing down the stairs towards the servants' hall much earlier than usual. She got caught in the smells of cooking and was almost run over by Daisy, yelling something in response to whatever Mrs Patmore was calling from the kitchens.

"Sorry, Anna," she said, without pausing to look back, and Anna bit her lower lip, containing a smile. There was something endearing in the seriousness with which Daisy seemed to take even the smallest of jobs.

The hall was empty. She could use that bit of spare time she had on finishing mending Lady Edith's camisole, but she decided some idle chat in the kitchens wouldn't be half bad either.

"Watch it!" Thomas' voice, filled with contempt, carried from the kitchen into the hall. "You're so clumsy! Now you have to change that saucer, haven't you?" It made her wish both to stay put and not have to look at him, and go to the rescue of whomever was at the other end of his ranting.

Earlier that week, she had overheard him talking to Mr Carson about Mr Bates' inability to carry out tasks and she had all but wanted to interrupt them and tell the footman just to mind his own business. She wanted to convince Mr Carson it was all lies, but then what did she knew about Mr Bates' work that proved she was right and Thomas wrong? And why would Mr Carson believe her? Apparently, what had been left for her to do was wait, hope for the best and, in the meantime, try to do something with the boiling indignation she was carrying around.

She stood at the threshold to the kitchens when Thomas rushed upstairs, a plate of some meat on his hands and a smirk on his face. He did enjoy bullying people and the reason behind was something Anna could not even begin to imagine.

"- so sorry, Mrs Patmore," William was stammering, while frantically rearranging several items on a tray."

The cook, busy with half her body over a gigantic casserole, was not paying him any attention.

"Could I-?" Anna had not noticed Mr Bates entering through the other door. "Here, William, let me help you."

"It's the sauce-"

"Just go and get me a clean saucer."

William sprinted towards the cabinet and Anna watched as Mr Bates rearranged the contents of the tray. For a split second she considered offering her help, but it felt intrusive somewhat. There was a method in Mr Bates' ministrations, and a carefulness that suggested this was hardly the first time he had done something like this.

The second footman was back, holding the clean saucer as if it were the most precious item in the house.

It took him a second to realise Mr Bates' arrangement of the tray.

"Keep the heavier objects closer to your chest," the valet said, so quietly Anna had to make an effort to hear it over the sounds in the kitchen. He took the saucer from William's hands and put it on the tray, with the jug on top. "And then, the tray should be always heavier on your left side."

"Why?"

"Because you hold and hand things with your right hand. This way it's much easier to balance it while you're serving or even if you trip. Your whole body will help."

William looked at him, and then at the rearranged tray.

"Why is _that_ still here?!" Mrs Patmore's yell made him jump, and a second later he was heaving the tray and disappearing through the door.

Mr Bates' eyes followed him and met Anna's. Slowly, he smiled at her.

"I used to be a footman myself. Ages ago," he said, and it sounded as if he were excusing himself.

Anna beamed at him. "I'd never have guessed."


	9. Chapter 9

He was on the ground. Flat. Useless. The only thing he had managed to do was to instinctively slow down his fall a bit with his left hand. Everything else was confusing.

"Bates, are you all right?" he heard Lord Grantham's voice.

"Perfectly, my Lord. I apologise," he said mechanically, feeling everybody's eyes piercing him. His face on the gravel, it was more than obvious he was far from perfectly.

And then that one thought washed over him almost with the very same force that had plummeted him to the ground. Looking up he met Miss O'Brien's eyes, cold, challenging. His cane did not just stop carrying his weight on its own accord. It was impossible.

She turned around, and with her, everybody else. Except one.

"Mr Bates," he could see the family and the young Duke of Crowborough entering the house right before feeling Anna's hands on his left arm. It was humiliating enough to fall, and sad that everybody would ignore him, and yet he almost wished she would have gone with the rest of the servants and left him to carry with his shame on his own. "That's better," she said, and he barely registered the fact that she had been holding his hand, trying to shake the dust off his sleeve.

"Please," he said, moving his arm off her grip, and finding it almost impossible to meet her eyes, "don't feel sorry for me." She held his gaze and, not for the first time Bates thought it was very difficult to read what those eyes were trying to tell him. Still, it all had been too much. Without pausing to thank her, he turned around and joined the retreating maids heading to the back entrance.

A moment later he heard Anna's footsteps on the gravel, behind him.

Of course, he could have avoided it all. He had had the chance, when Mr Carson had asked him if he really wanted to be part of the group that would welcome the Duke. He knew Mr Carson had not really wanted him there, spoiling his perfect image of a perfect house staff with his cane and crippled leg.

Had it been pride? A foolish desire to prove himself? Thomas contemptuous remark about not expecting him to help with the luggage and the way he had stayed behind to whisper something to Mr Carson had been enough incentive for him to keep on climbing up the stairs.

It had been a very bad decision.

His slower pace had put enough distance between the maids and himself. Now, in the somewhat secluded calmness of the courtyard, he decided he just wanted to keep out of sight for as long as possible; he need some time to brace for the worse. Because if he understood how these things worked at all, he had the strong suspicion this would be his last night in Downton.

Anna passed at his side, light as a breeze, and for a moment Bates thought she would just ignore him and go in. He wanted to believe he felt grateful for that.

Suddenly, she turned on her heels and was facing him, her eyes bright.

"I don't feel sorry for you," Anna said. "It would be foolish of you to think I do." And without waiting for a reply he did not have, she entered the kitchens.

Later on, climbing up the stairs to his bedroom, those words seem to haunt him, mixed with Lord Grantham's, and his mind played his falling as if it was a moving picture, over and over again.

"The thing is, Bates," his Lordship had said, "I said I'd give you a trial and I have. If it were only up to me…"

Bates had come the closest he had dared to beg. He was only too aware what losing this one opportunity would imply.

"You see, it is unlikely that I should find another position." He had tried, for months, living out of his mother's charity and making his best effort to keep his head tall and his limp as unnoticeable as possible while walking up and down London, trying to find somebody that, like Lord Grantham, would look pass it and give him a chance.

Lord Grantham had finally understood that, too. But Downton was his main priority and he was willing to make sacrifices for it. Bates would be one of such sacrifices.

"It's a bloody business, Bates," he had finally said, the tone of dismissal clear in every word. "But I can't see any way around it."

"I quite understand, my Lord," he had managed through gritted teeth. There was nothing else to be said.

Maybe Anna did not feel sorry for him, but when he finally reached his dormitory, he decided he would allow himself that, if only for a moment.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you very much! Only 3 chapters to go!


	10. Chapter 10

Indignation was a word that did not even seem to begin to cover it. She was fuming. Boiling. So enraged she could not even see clearly. Her first thought had been to find O'Brien and ask her what exactly had happened, because somehow she was sure she had had something to do with Mr Bates' fall. Had she pushed him? Tripped him somehow?

She must have.

She had seen Mr Bates walk, she had noticed his limp accentuated when it was late and he was tired, she had even seen him stumble that time he had put too much weight on his bad leg. But it had never occurred to her the possibility of him just falling on the ground, flat on his face, with no apparent reason.

She had tried to replay the scene on her mind. The arriving of the Duke. His choosing of Thomas as his valet. How smug the footman had looked. And then, inexplicably, Mr Bates falling. They all had gone away, as if he would embarrass them all if they tried to help him. As if he had already done so. Anna had not seen Mr Carson's expression right afterwards, but she could very well picture it. Ashamed. Feeling as if the word would crumble into pieces because one of the men on his charge had gone through the indignity of falling on the ground.

Anna had waited a moment; she had actually hoped somebody would stay behind with her in order to help Mr Bates. He had been practically on his feet by the time she had reached for his hand, and then he had almost snapped at her.

"Please, don't feel sorry for me."

She had felt hurt by his words, and yet she had understood his humiliation all the same.

It was not fair. Not fair at all.

And now the news were running through the servant's hall and corridors, through the kitchen and the offices, in whispers that did not even tried to disguise the enjoyment that only gossip could bring.

"I heard his Lordship himself is going to tell him. He would not even tell Mr Carson to do it!"

"So it must have been serious."

"Don't be silly. He's done it because they were chums during the war."

"Poor Mr Bates."

"He had it coming. There was no use of him staying if he could not work properly."

"I said I wouldn't mind the extra work. He's nice."

"You're stupid, then."

Anna could not take it anymore. She wished to go upstairs, where Mr Bates was probably now, and try to talk to him. And yet, she had no idea of what to say; his last words to her still stung a bit.

So, she did the only sensible thing she could: work. Unnecessarily, she passed through the unoccupied bedrooms, checking that everything was in place; she looked for stains in spare sheets, and tears on winter gowns even if the girls would not need them for months; she checked all shoes and boots she could get her hands on. By the time the first gong rung, she sighed almost relieved and headed to Lady Sybil's room, wishing that the gossip would not have reached the girls' yet, because then she would not be able to avoid it.

She did not need to fear. The presence of a suitor for Mary, and a Duke at that, was more than enough to make them all forget about a crippled valet that had just been sacked.

By the time she was dismissed from Lady Mary's bedroom, her emotions had shifted. She was angry, yes, but it had nothing to do with that hot rage of earlier. For a wild moment she had considered talking to Lord Grantham, but she knew it was not her place to do so. She very much suspected Mr Bates would not like that idea at all, considering that she could be risking her job as well. They had lost. And she was so very disappointed.

And there was also this sadness, an emptiness of sorts, the feeling of a lost opportunity. She had been sure there were plenty of things she and Mr Bates could have shared. Conversations, interests, maybe even quiet laughter. Now there will be nothing of the sort and Anna very much suspected that whoever occupied his place in the future, would not be half as interesting as he had proven to be during that short time they had shared.

Climbing down the stairs she decided she could not stand the on-going gossip, or Mr Carson's airs of having done the right thing. Not even Mrs Hughes preoccupied glances. She would go upstairs and talk to him. If he wanted to be alone, Anna was confident she would notice the dismissal. It was worth the try, because she could not stand the thought of the limp valet sitting in his room with only his dark thoughts as company.

* * *

 **AN:** Very special thanks to Eva, Isis the Dog and the other Guest reviewers (I did take it as a compliment, Eva!). All of you are fantastic! Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

It had taken him no time at all to put his scarce belongings back inside his old suitcase.

Having been excused of his duties, now he had nothing to do but wait for the morning. He wished he had not accepted Lord Grantham's suggestion to wait for the nine o'clock train the next morning . Staying at Downton was certainly more comfortable, but much more humiliating.

His mind wandered on its own accord to those last job interviews he had had, right before meeting Lord Grantham on the street. He could see every stare at his leg, every uncomfortable question, impertinent even, about his ability to do proper work. And then it was the matter of his references, or lack thereof for the past couple of years.

Lord Grantham had not bothered with asking for those references when he had hired him, due to their past in the military together. Nobody would pay him the same courtesy. Nobody would hire a convicted thief either.

He thought about his mother, and how happy she had been when he had come back from that encounter, to tell her that finally he had found a job. After so many months he had felt worthy, capable, a small future starting to shine in front of him. Now he did not ever had time to warn the old lady about his returning home. She would be sympathetic, of course; anticipating the pity in his mother's eyes, Bates felt another wave of shame wash over him.

Thinking about her and the words she might use to comfort him was too much, and without being able to stop himself, he was sobbing.

How long he had stayed like that, surrounded by his own self-pity, he could not tell.

"Mr Bates? Are you there?" Anna's voice, coming from the corridor, made him jump back to reality. He had not heard her steps on the corridor. Why was she here, in the men's quarters and why was she looking for him when the news of his dismissal had surely reached her?

She was a kind person, so much he had gathered. If she had decided to see him, Bates thought while laboriously standing up his bed, it was probably because she wanted to comfort him, and not just because she was curious. Whatever it was, and even though he considered it for a moment, he could not shut his door at her. Not now.

Anna was standing in the dimly lit corridor, carrying a tray loaded with food. Of course, he had not even considered going down for dinner. She had noticed.

"I brought something up, in case you were hungry." She spoke almost nonchalantly, as if this was a regular activity of hers.

He, on the other hand, was touched. It took him a good long second to find his voice again. "That's very kind" he said hoarsely. He took the tray with care and placed it on a table, both wishing for her to stay and go away.

"I'm ever so sorry you're going." Anna said, and he could see in her eyes she really meant it.

"I'll be all right" he tried to sound reassuring, both for his sake and hers.

"Of course you will," she said, and it was plain that the smile on her face was forced. "There's always a place for a man like you."

A man like him? Anna had clearly the wrong idea of what sort of a man he really was.

"Oh yes. Something will turn up." He said, forcing a smile of his own.

"Tell us when you're fixed. Just…" she shuddered, and Bates noticed her lips were trembling "drop us a line. Else I'll worry."

"Well, we can't have that." Now he did smile. She meant it. She was really concerned and he suspected that, from all the inhabitants in the house, Anna was probably the only one sorry he was going.

He could not say another word and feeling as if he would crumble in front of her, he closed the door on her.

She was a good woman, but she would carry on with her life, working harder than anyone and enjoying the everyday things. He envied her.

The food on the tray looked tasty. There was another thing he would miss. Although he was not hungry, he ate it all, in case Anna would come back to pick up the tray and take it back to the kitchens.

Bates had expected sleep would elude him, but almost as if his body had wanted to make the most out of this last night, he fell asleep instantly afterwards.

* * *

 **AN:** This scene is one of my favourites ever. I felt in love with the characters here, the body language, the lines, the small gestures, the eyes...

Thank you all, very very much!


	12. Chapter 12

It had taken her a long time to fall asleep. In her mind she could not stop seeing Mr Bates' sad eyes, or repeating his words and, above it all, hearing his sobbing when he had thought he had been on his own. A part of Anna wished she had not seen it, and she vowed he would never find out she had.

Tired, sad, and consequently grumpy she finally stood up at dawn, even before Daisy knocked on her door at six. She had been tossing and turning for what seemed like ages. If she was to face the day, she could as well start now.

It felt as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Anna hardly spoke a word while tidying up the rooms downstairs, and Gwen did not ask her a thing either.

"I'm sorry Mr Bates is going, he is nice," the younger maid had said the night before, when she had been about to go to bed.

"Sorry?" despite what Anna had told Mr Bates earlier, she had scoffed at the word. "I'm not just sorry, I'm furious! You know it was that hag O'Brien!"

Gwen had looked at her intently. "You can't prove it."

Anna had just grunted. The younger maid had been right, of course, but that did not make the situation any easier.

Now Gwen seemed to have realised Anna's temper had not improved overnight and Anna was grateful for that. She was most definitely not in the mood for small talk.

For a wild moment she had considered waiting for Mr Bates to come down, before he would go to the station, to say good-bye. A second later she was thinking how silly that idea was. She had told him all she had dared the night before, there was nothing to add and she very much doubted it would make him feel any better. He had not been down for breakfast and she was not surprised; probably he had gone out quite early to avoid meeting everybody.

Lady Mary had not ringed for her. According to the gossip downstairs, she had been hoping the Duke would propose and he had not. It was no wonder she was not in a hurry to see him off. The problem was, not helping her left Anna with nothing to do but stare at her cup of tea and, every minute or so, taking a glance at the clock on top of the mantelpiece.

When O'Brien entered the servants' hall and sat down, smirking, Anna thought that was the final straw. She was just not up to face her, and without a word she stood up and left. She was sure there must be something she could do while waiting for the girls to wake up. Whatever there was, it would be surely much bearable than to see O'Brien's silent gloat or wait for any dry remark on the leaving of Mr Bates.

One of the maids was climbing down the stairs, a bundle of dirty sheets under her arm.

"I'll take it to the laundry," Anna said, taking the bundle off the maid's arms and ignoring her surprised look.

She was almost sure she heard O'Brien say something about bad temper in the morning before closing the door at her back. How she was going to get through the day, she had no idea. And never mind the day. Suddenly she realised that Mr Bates not being there meant that she would have to cope O'Brien and Thomas' nastiness without the conspiratorial glances exchanged with him. The thought sunk her spirits even lower.

Going back to the house she wished for any of the girls to be up, while making plans for alternative tasks in case they were not.

Only, the sight of somebody made her stop.

Mr Bates was crossing the courtyard, carrying his suitcase; he was heading towards the back door.

"Mr Bates!" She called after him before even thinking. What was he doing here? "I thought you were supposed to leave early. Did you forget something?"

He stopped on his tracks, turned around to face her, and sighed deeply. "I… I have to apologise to you, Anna."

"What ever for?" she said, frowning. If somebody should be doing some sort of apology, that was surely she, after having intruded the night before.

"You asked me to write when I was settled," he was speaking slowly, "and I let you believe I would but… the fact is, I don't think I will. It won't do."

"Oh," she said, looking at her feet. Her face felt hot and she realised she had been fidgeting. It had been very silly of her to ask that, and he had been so kind. But of course, why would he feel compelled to write to somebody he had known for just some weeks. Somebody with whom he had no attachment whatsoever.

"It would not make sense, you see," Mr Bates continued, and now Anna wished he would stop explaining. It was humiliating enough as it was.

"There's no need for-"

"It would not make sense to write to you," he talked a little louder to drown her voice, "if I'm going to _sit_ next to you every day. I think that whatever I might want to tell you, and beware there might be plenty, I'd rather do it in person."

Now she was properly confused. Was he actually saying that-?

Still flushed she looked up. Mr Bates was beaming, and mischievous laughter was dancing in his eyes.

"Why you silly-" she refrained herself just in time. "Are you saying you're staying then?"

He nodded once. "Apparently, for the time being."

Now she was beaming, too.

"Well, I'm ever so glad."

He looked at her for what felt like a long moment.

"I'll better go upstairs to put this away," he gave his suitcase a little shake and Anna felt foolish she had been keeping him standing there, loaded with extra weight.

He had just walked a few steps when sudden inspiration hit her.

"Mr Bates," she called him. He turned around, eyebrows raised. "Would you mind if I'd walk in with you?"

"Not at all," he said, and she felt some sort of explanation was needed.

"I just wish to see Miss O'Brien's face when she sees you're back."

\- The End -

* * *

 **AN:** This leaves us right at the end of series 1, episode 1.

I will continue to follow Anna and Mr Bates because they are great fun to write. The story will be called "Getting to love you".

Thank you very very much for your amazing support! Your reading and reviewing have made my day. Special thanks to Isis the Dog, Eva, Latitude24, Awesomegreentie, Skeeter0003, JChase, Shani21, terriejane and all the guest reviewers!


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